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Dear Audrey,
I know the counselor said we shouldn't contact each other during our
"cooling off" period, but I couldn't wait anymore. The day you left, I swore
I'd never talk to you again. But that was just the wounded little boy in me
talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make contact. In my
fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to me. I guess my
pride needed that. But now I see that my pride's cost me a lot of things.
I'm tired of pretending I don't miss you. I don't care about looking bad
anymore. I don't care who makes the first move as long as one of us does.
Maybe it's time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. And this is
what my heart says... "There's no one like you, Audrey." I look for you in
the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but they're not you. They're not
even close. Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Flamingoes and brought her
home with me. I don't say this to hurt you, but just to illustrate the depth
of my desperation. She was young, maybe 19, with one of those perfect bodies
that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I
mean, just a perfect body. Jugs you wouldn't believe and an ass like a
tortoise shell. Every man's dream, right? But as I sat on the couch being
blown by this stunner, I thought, look at the stuff we've made important in
our lives. It's all so superficial. What does a perfect body mean? Does it
make her better in bed? Well, in this case, yes. But you see what I'm
getting at. Does it make her a better person? Does she have a better heart
than my moderately attractive Audrey? I doubt it. And I'd never really
thought of that before. I Don't know, maybe I'm just growing up a little.
Later, after I'd tossed her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found
myself thinking, "Why do I feel so drained and empty?" It wasn't just her
flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something else.
Some niggling feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then it
hit me. It didn't feel the same because you weren't there, Audrey, to
watch.
Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus, Audrey,
I'm just going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of
you. Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at Pontins last year?
Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said she figured
I wasn't eating right without a woman around. I didn't know what she meant
till later, but that's not the real story. Anyway, we had a few glasses of
wine and the next thing you know we're banging away in our old bedroom. And
this tart's a total monster in the sack. She's giving me everything, you
know like a real woman does when she's not hung up about her weight or her
career and whether the kids can hear us. And all of a sudden she spots that
tilting mirror on your grandmother's old vanity. So she puts it on the
floor and we straddle it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it's
totally hot, but it makes me sad too. 'Cause I can't help thinking, "Why
didn't Audrey ever put the mirror on the floor? We've had this old vanity
for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sex aid." Saturday, your
sister
drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Vicky's just a kid
and all, but she's got a pretty good head on her shoulders and she's been a
real friend to me during this painful time. She's given me lots of good
counsel about you and about women in general. She's pulling for us to get
back together, Audrey, She really is. So we're drinking in a hot bath and
talking about happier times. Here's this teenage girl with the same DNA as
you and all I can do is think of how much she looked like you when you were
18. And that just about makes me cry. And then it turns out Vicky's really
into the whole anal thing and that gets me to thinking about how many times
I pressured you about trying it and how that probably fueled some of the
bitterness between us. But do you see how even then, when I'm thrusting
inside your baby sister's cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you?
It's
true, Audrey. In your heart you know it. Don't you think we could Start
over? Just wipe out all the grievances and start fresh? I think we can. If
you feel the same please please please let me know, otherwise, can you let
me know where the Sky remote control is.
John
I know the counselor said we shouldn't contact each other during our
"cooling off" period, but I couldn't wait anymore. The day you left, I swore
I'd never talk to you again. But that was just the wounded little boy in me
talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make contact. In my
fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to me. I guess my
pride needed that. But now I see that my pride's cost me a lot of things.
I'm tired of pretending I don't miss you. I don't care about looking bad
anymore. I don't care who makes the first move as long as one of us does.
Maybe it's time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. And this is
what my heart says... "There's no one like you, Audrey." I look for you in
the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but they're not you. They're not
even close. Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Flamingoes and brought her
home with me. I don't say this to hurt you, but just to illustrate the depth
of my desperation. She was young, maybe 19, with one of those perfect bodies
that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I
mean, just a perfect body. Jugs you wouldn't believe and an ass like a
tortoise shell. Every man's dream, right? But as I sat on the couch being
blown by this stunner, I thought, look at the stuff we've made important in
our lives. It's all so superficial. What does a perfect body mean? Does it
make her better in bed? Well, in this case, yes. But you see what I'm
getting at. Does it make her a better person? Does she have a better heart
than my moderately attractive Audrey? I doubt it. And I'd never really
thought of that before. I Don't know, maybe I'm just growing up a little.
Later, after I'd tossed her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found
myself thinking, "Why do I feel so drained and empty?" It wasn't just her
flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something else.
Some niggling feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then it
hit me. It didn't feel the same because you weren't there, Audrey, to
watch.
Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus, Audrey,
I'm just going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of
you. Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at Pontins last year?
Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said she figured
I wasn't eating right without a woman around. I didn't know what she meant
till later, but that's not the real story. Anyway, we had a few glasses of
wine and the next thing you know we're banging away in our old bedroom. And
this tart's a total monster in the sack. She's giving me everything, you
know like a real woman does when she's not hung up about her weight or her
career and whether the kids can hear us. And all of a sudden she spots that
tilting mirror on your grandmother's old vanity. So she puts it on the
floor and we straddle it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it's
totally hot, but it makes me sad too. 'Cause I can't help thinking, "Why
didn't Audrey ever put the mirror on the floor? We've had this old vanity
for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sex aid." Saturday, your
sister
drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Vicky's just a kid
and all, but she's got a pretty good head on her shoulders and she's been a
real friend to me during this painful time. She's given me lots of good
counsel about you and about women in general. She's pulling for us to get
back together, Audrey, She really is. So we're drinking in a hot bath and
talking about happier times. Here's this teenage girl with the same DNA as
you and all I can do is think of how much she looked like you when you were
18. And that just about makes me cry. And then it turns out Vicky's really
into the whole anal thing and that gets me to thinking about how many times
I pressured you about trying it and how that probably fueled some of the
bitterness between us. But do you see how even then, when I'm thrusting
inside your baby sister's cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you?
It's
true, Audrey. In your heart you know it. Don't you think we could Start
over? Just wipe out all the grievances and start fresh? I think we can. If
you feel the same please please please let me know, otherwise, can you let
me know where the Sky remote control is.
John
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